<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Heads and Tails by thiefless</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26093413">Heads and Tails</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiefless/pseuds/thiefless'>thiefless</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst and Feels, Ben Parker is Howard Stark's Biological Child, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark and Ben Parker are Half-Brothers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:35:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,509</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26093413</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiefless/pseuds/thiefless</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Forgive me, Mr. Stark, but,” Ben said, bouncing back on the balls of his feet – a nervous tic Tony himself indulged in. “I think you might be my brother.”</p><p> </p><p>AU: Uncle Ben is Tony Stark's illegitimate half-brother.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ben Parker &amp; Tony Stark, Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>280</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Heads and Tails</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey, guys. This story has taken me way too long to finally write and finish, but now it is as good as it will ever be, so I'm just going to go ahead and post it. </p><p>I really hope you guys enjoy this! :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In a nutshell: Daddy Dearest was a bit of a stinking turd. </p><p>Now, Tony'd known that little fact since before he could walk – at this point, it wasn't <em>news</em> to him, but rather a statement of fact. And, yeah, maybe Tony had a fuck ton of permanently unresolved daddy issues, but who the hell cared, right? </p><p>Sure as hell not him. No siree.</p><p>Howard wasn't just a tumour pressing down on Tony's frontal lobe, dictating every decision, corrupting his personality. No. The man was <em>cancer</em>. Malignant. Metastasising – infecting, <em>whatever</em> – to every aspect of the life Tony was well on the way to building himself.</p><p>Nope. He was not heading down that particular rabbit-hole. Not today. Someone hand him the champagne, he was in the mood to party. This casino seemed like as good a place as any to have fun before he headed off to Afghanistan – he was in the mood to blow shit up. </p><p>Luckily, his eyes had already honed in on a good-looking man sitting on his eyes, looking for all the world like he was trying to muster up the courage to go up and talk to him. </p><p>Tony spared him the hassle. He came to him.</p><p>Something you ought to know: Tony Stark was a menu of bad choices; an armada of witty one-liners and sarcastic quips ready and waiting at his disposal. His actions were dominated by a primarily <em>laissez-faire</em> attitude; had been for years. Why stop now, you know?</p><p>“Well,” he smirked, completely unabashed. He pocketed his glasses. “It's been a while since I've played for the other team, but in your case, I'd be willing to make an exception.”</p><p>For some reason, the other man blanched at Tony's proposition, a vague green tint shading his face – which, c'mon, <em>rude</em>. Tony was a master at sexual innuendos. A lukewarm, no, downright <em>hostile</em>, reception was, frankly, unwarranted. </p><p>“That's, uh,” the man stuttered, painfully. “I'm here on business.”</p><p>Tony gestured, open palms. “As am I.” He flashed a knife-sharp grin. “You got a name?”</p><p>“Ben. Ben Parker.” If anything, Ben grimaced in the face of his imperious charm. But his eyes never left his face – brown, the same shade as Tony's. </p><p>“Okay, seriously.” Tony held up a hand, patronising. “I know I'm handsome to look at and all, but this is getting a bit much. Have to admit, I'm a little uncomfortable.”</p><p>Brandishing a piece of paper, clearly expecting Tony to take it from him, evidently having not been informed about his little behavioural tic, this random guy – this <em>Ben Parker</em> claimed, guarded smile quaking at his lips, “Thing is: Howard Stark was my father, too.”</p><p>The arteries surrounding Tony's heart instantly clogged. “What exactly are you saying?”</p><p>“Forgive me, Mr. Stark, but,” Ben said, bouncing back on the balls of his feet – a nervous tic Tony himself indulged in. “I think you might be my brother.”</p><p>For the record, Tony wasn't proud of how he diffused this bombshell. </p><p>Shooting him a lazy smirk, mind having fled the building, he said with malicious intent, “And what? Oh, you thought just because my dad fucked your mom when they were drunk or high – or both – that you and I would be cool?”</p><p>Ben's face froze. “No. No, I–”</p><p>“Good. Because we're not cool. You mean nothing to me. That means that I don't wanna hear your life story, and hear about how ever since you were a little boy all you wanted was the chance to meet your family. Understand?”</p><p>Cruel to be kind – Tony Stark's policy, ladies and gentlemen.</p><p>Without further ado, he left him standing there and went to re-join the fun, leaving his alleged brother to eat his dust.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>After Tony had unsuccessfully buried the complex concoction of, ugh, ‘feelings’ curdling in his gut in Ms. Brown from <em>Vanity Fair</em>, he headed down to the lab.</p><p>Admittedly, he did not have the best coping mechanisms. It would be a lie to say he was working on it.</p><p>Down in the safety of his lab in the company of his trusty A.I., he pulled up every record of Ben Parker – where he was born, where he spent his childhood, who raised him etc. Tony wanted to know <em>everything</em> about this phoney, needed to gather every iota of evidence before he subpoenaed Ben's ass. </p><p>Hypothesis: Benjamin Franklin Parker was a liar gunning for the Stark fortune. All Tony needed was to find the proof to support his budding theory. </p><p>Howard's one-night-stand was a meth-head who died shortly after Ben's birth, where he was adopted by an average-seeming couple in Queens. Said couple then discovered that – <em>wow, what a surprise!</em> – the mom could actually conceive, and two years later little Richard Parker popped out. </p><p>Yes, yes, yes. Trite, meaningless details that sculpted the bigger picture. He needed more.</p><p>Richard Parker – hm, C.I.A. agent, intriguing – met like-minded C.I.A. agent Mary Fitzpatrick, they got married, fucked, had a son. Blah, blah, blah. Meanwhile, Ben seduced a May Reilly and they had remained child-free ever since. </p><p>Then, spoiler alert: Richard and Mary tragically died, and Tony's so-called half-brother stepped up to the plate of raising their orphan. </p><p>Eh, whatever. He wasn't interested the sob story. Save that for the press. What he needed was the nitty-gritty details, those hard-and-fast, irrefutable facts that demanded reliability. </p><p>And then– oh, and <em>then</em>. He found it. J.A.R.V.I.S. hacked the court records. Ben Parker had to fight to get to know who sired him, and Tony spat in his face when his last living biological relation came a-knocking. </p><p>Conclusion: Benjamin Franklin Parker was Howard Stark's illegitimate lovechild. </p><p>Meaning: Benjamin Franklin Parker was his half-brother.</p><p>He put his head in his hands and sighed. <em>Ah, fuck</em>.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>As fate would have it, there wasn't much he could do with that information before he was captured and taken as a hostage. </p><p>Well. This was it. Tony'd teetered on the gates of Hell for too long. His sins were to be compensated. </p><p>Afghanistan. </p><p>It wasn't all bad, though. (Okay, it kinda was.) He got used to the solitude. Yinsen was nice. The food could be better. All he could do was ruminate on his colossal screw-ups the few decades he'd been expelling carbon dioxide for.</p><p>Funny thing was, Tony'd been read the riot act so many times, and in so many different iterations, he could deliver a lecture on the finer points alone; recite it off by heart. </p><p>Apparently, Yinsen wanted to provide a different iteration. </p><p>“So,” he said, neutral. “You are a man who has everything – and nothing.”</p><p>Maybe it was companionship, maybe it was mortality looming over him like a guillotine, maybe it was something that stank like regret that compelled Tony to respond with a tentative, “I have a brother.”</p><p>Yinsen arched his brows superbly. Hesitantly, Tony gave him the small morsel of information he had on a man who shared 25% of his DNA. </p><p>Hey, for all he knew, he could have a thousand brothers and sisters. Howard's time spent polluting the world's population was well-documented, rivalling Tony's own impressive record. What the hell made Ben Parker any different from the rest?</p><p>(Answer: everything.)</p><p>By the time Tony had finished regaling his fellow captive with the short, sad tale of spurned family, Yinsen looked at Tony devoid of shame, of judgement. He wasn't sure he deserved the blank, impassive mask. </p><p>“Do you want him to be your family?” was all Yinsen offered. </p><p>He didn't know how to respond to that. The Ten Rings soon kicked the door down, delivering more threats. Escape was imminent. </p><p>In the wake of Yinsen's open interrogative, Tony's mind was disorganised clutter – but not to the point of mayhem. Rather, a beautiful, chaotic mess that responded only to his siren call. Only he could make it sing, a melody as beautiful as pounding metal on metal. </p><p>Nevertheless, it worked. He got out. Yinsen didn't.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Ben Parker left voicemails.</p><p>For three long, lonely months Tony had spent withering and decaying in an Afghan cave, Ben Parker kept him updated on the developments of his family. </p><p>Ben prefaced the initial messages with a greeting, punctuating a, “Hope you are well.” Tony didn't know how he managed to do that, sound so genuine in a world filled to the brim with duplicitous liars.</p><p>Every other goddamn word out of Ben's mouth featured his nephew – what he looked like, what he talked like, who his friends were. Apparently, the kid's favourite flavour of ice cream was mint choc chip. Yesterday, it had been vanilla. <em>Heathen</em>, Tony wanted to chastise fondly, catching himself. Everyone knew pure chocolate was the way to go.</p><p>At this rate, he'd been damn inducted into the last surviving Parker family. Surprisingly, he didn't find the notion so abhorrent. He wanted to say he hated this talk, hated feeling like part of a family, wanted nothing more than to shut the man up with cruel japes and callous remarks. </p><p>Instead: he sat down in the lab, tumbler of scotch pressed to his thigh, and pressed play. </p><p>Even so, it was greed that commanded his actions, as he basked in the familial warmth of his long-lost brother while offering nothing of himself. Tony couldn't afford to give away pieces of himself – not even to a man who shared his blood type.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>If there was anything he learnt about his time in captivity, it was this: survivor's guilt was a powerful motivator. </p><p>Upon his return, he immediately set about dismantling Howard's legacy, one brick at a time. Starting with the weapons division. </p><p>(Maybe Ben Parker could see that being related to this family was not the blessing he assumed it was.)</p><p>Joking aside: Tony was about as destructive as a nuclear bomb. He couldn't afford to let this man who happened to share half of his genetic waste and his seemingly perfect family to get caught in the crossfire. His micromanaging tendencies were tantamount to autocracy; a dictatorship spearheaded by Tony Stark. </p><p>Nobody should have to live like that. </p><p>Tony winced at the familiar throb at his left temple, rubbing a callous palm over his forehead irritably. This whole debacle was a giant fucking mess that he really could have done without. </p><p>The voicemails continued – every day at eight PM sharp. That was five PM in New York. J.A.R.V.I.S. notified him of Ben's call, and every time Tony let it ring. <em>Coward</em>. He knew Ben was hoping for Tony to pick up the phone, yet it was always in vain. Prioritising the whims and wishes of another human being was a hard no in Tony's book. That was just the way it was. Good will wasn't in the Stark gene pool. And, guess what? Tony gave absolutely zero fucks. </p><p>But, he would wager that dear old Ben Parker cared about shit like that: kindness and friendliness and human fucking decency. All the things Tony emphatically was <em>not</em>. His antithesis, as it were.</p><p>For heaven's sake, Tony was a freshly-reformed weapons dealer. He'd made his fortune watching the world burn with impunity. (No more, he would see to that.) Even so, the past would not be erased, nor should it. On the flip side of the coin, Benjamin Parker was busy raising his dead brother's son, taking in an orphaned boy and giving him a home, even sending Tony little snippets of their domestic life. </p><p>No, Tony wasn't indifferent to the number his father left on him. The scars from Afghanistan, from <em>Iron Man</em>, paled in comparison to the mental fragility Howard Stark abandoned him with – and every time Tony so much as spared a cursory <em>thought</em> on the son of a bitch who gave him twenty-three of the same fucking chromosomes, he got so angry he wanted to punch the wall. In his dreams, he punched his father, over and over <em>and over</em> again, desperately hoping for anything to alleviate the pain he was in. </p><p>Ben Parker was just another outlet for that pain. A living, breathing reminder of the curse Howard Stark stamped on the world he did not deserve. </p><p>Tony had nothin’ on the guy, and the sooner everyone got that, the better. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
Tony learnt about Peter from these calls. Including the fact that Ben's little tyke was a math prodigy in the making. With that in mind, he bought the Parkers' VIP tickets to the Expo, to witness Tony's ego in action. </p><p>It was a very nice ego. </p><p>Shouldn't be news. In addition to being a gargantuan jackass, Tony Stark was a self-diagnosed showboat, so. No surprises there.</p><p>Ben didn't seem to share Tony's self-professed laundry list of character defects – at least not that he could analyse. </p><p>Tony didn't know how to feel about that. </p><p>(The running motif of his life, evidently.)</p><p>Unfortunately, his Expo fell to shambles as a result of his aforementioned giant ego. Yeah, he was dying, but that wasn't really an excuse. Point was: he could have been better. He <em>should have been</em> better. Tony had never felt more disappointed in himself.</p><p>Panic coagulated his blood as he searched amongst the rubble for Ben and his family. He found them soon enough: Ben and May kneeling down beside a boy no more than nine, decked in Man memorabilia. </p><p>For long seconds, Tony just stood there. Standing on the outside looking in, a stranger to the life his half-brother built. </p><p>Family: the one thing his hands could never create.</p><p>He felt anaemic. </p><p>Because the thing was: Howard Stark was cold, he was calculating; never told Tony he loved him, never even told Tony he <em>liked</em> him. That same genetic misery was embedded within Tony's DNA. He would make a terrible family man: controlling, grandiloquent, borderline narcissistic. Incontrovertible proof that Tony fucking Stark was an absolute disgrace of a man dolled up in some admittedly great clothes.</p><p>Honestly, Ben Parker should count his blessings. Tony was doing him a favour, not bringing him and his stable, well-adjusted family into the whole Stark mess.</p><p>(Maybe if he kept phrasing it like that, he could finally sleep at night.)</p><p>Tampering down the age-old instinct to run as far as he could get, he forced his legs to move, to cut apart the picture-perfect family, insert himself in the illusion. </p><p>The kid jumped up and down as Tony neared, claiming how Iron Man had just saved his life – and, <em>oh my God, that kid he saved was Peter Parker, fuck, Ben will kill him for putting him in danger</em> – and could he please get an autograph, Mr. Stark?</p><p>With shaky hands, he complied with little Peter's request, stubborn smile forming as the kid turned ecstatic at Tony's scrawl on his plastic Iron Man mask. His aunt took him to one side, exchanging a quick non-verbal communication with Ben before leaving. </p><p>
  <em>And then there were two. </em>
</p><p>“Mr. Stark,” Ben greeted, proffering his hand. </p><p>Tony shook it. “Please, Tony.”</p><p>Ben nodded. Oxygen had never seemed so suffocating. Dimly, Tony was aware that he should be speaking, but not a peep came out. He wasn’t about to start spouting glib insincerities. Not for this; not for something that mattered, in a way very few things did in his life.</p><p>“I don't suppose you know.” Tony cleared his throat. Bounced on his heels. Turned his head to the left. Anything he could think of to distort the picture of fucking nervousness his body was determined to portray. “How to cook an omelette?”</p><p>To his credit, Ben did not flinch at the non sequitur, giving him a quick recipe he made sure to memorise. Pepper would surely appreciate it. </p><p>“Thank you,” he said. </p><p>Tony did his best to smile. The effort did not go unnoticed by Ben, who offered a true one of his own in return. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Since that first, tentative olive branch, he endeavoured to become a little more involved in the Parker's affairs – read: a <em>little</em>.</p><p>Ben's voice was warm and friendly, words teeming with a brotherly affection Tony fought hard to resist. </p><p>Shut up. It was a work in progress.</p><p>Anyway. Tony wasn't letting on. He'd mastered the art of a good poker face by the age of five. He wasn't about to blow his cover now. </p><p>Before you ask: no, Tony's heart was not magically healed by the power of honest-to-God familial affection. Rather, his heart was powered by a negatively-charged electromagnet that kept the shrapnel fragments formed by weapons created by his own hand from slowly killing him. </p><p>Tony was keeping a running tally of Ben's top-tier personality traits. Let's take a gander, shall we?</p><p>• Domestic: ✓<br/>
• Magnanimous: ✓<br/>
• Altruistic: ✓</p><p>And still Ben vied for Tony's time and attention, believed him his equal; that Tony was laughably worthy of him. </p><p>That one thought reverberated around Tony's skull, banging and clanging and keeping him awake at night: <em>why?</em> </p><p>The longer he dwelled on that train of thought, the more he became sure that he didn't belong in their life. He was a Pythagorean cup – have too much of him, and the siphoning effect would backfire like a poor practical joke. </p><p>Ergo, he stopped going. Seven months after the fiasco at his Expo, to be precise. He financed their household, set aside trust funds to ensure they would each live comfortably for the rest of their lives, but... he couldn't. He couldn't be a part of their family. He didn't <em>belong</em>.</p><p>Unpopular opinion alert: Tony was doing the man a giant favour by refusing to entertain the notion that they were, for want of a better term, blood brothers. </p><p>Their ‘relationship’ – yes, the inverted commas were absolutely necessary – was not symbiotic. On the contrary, it was born of a parasitic connection. And if Tony dared let himself have this shot at an honest-to-God, real life fucking family... he'd destroy them. Just leech off of Ben, and take and take and take until he was just an empty carcass of the man he once was. </p><p>The same shit Howard did to Tony. </p><p>Tony had gone his whole life waiting for a respect that would never come. No amount of tinkering or inventing would magically get his father to notice him – <em>really</em> notice him. </p><p>And then when Howard died, well. There went Tony's shot at ever gaining the man's admiration. </p><p>(Was it wrong that he grieved never having Howard's love more than he mourned the ass-face himself?)</p><p>An irrational, inexplicable surge of jealousy curdled in Tony's gut – Ben Parker never had to live with always coming second best to Howard's work. Sure, Ben never <em>had</em> a biological father, but he had something better than that: a <em>loving</em> father. Ben had half of Howard's DNA, and none of his coldness. </p><p>Tony would give anything for the smallest slice of that. He still would – try as he might to deny it, even to himself. </p><p>Tony vehemently refused to follow that same cycle of shame, and he would go to the grave before he let himself do that to this man who deserved far better than to have Howard Stark for a biological father. If that meant withdrawing before causing permanent damage to this loving family unit – so be it.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Funerals really were a drab affair. What? It's what everybody was thinking. Relax.</p><p>Tony didn't cry. He wasn't the only one. Ben's nephew – <em>Peter</em> – was noticeably dry-eyed, shock staying his hand as it had so often stayed Tony's. </p><p>The kid was an orphan too. Just like Tony. </p><p>And now, just like Tony, they had both lost their last living blood relative.</p><p>The last time Tony wore this suit, he was twenty years younger – another funeral. To be honest, he had assumed the suit was trashed, a by-product of his own self-destructive behaviour and terrible coping strategies. </p><p><em>Any</em>-way. That was a different funeral. For different people. </p><p>Yeah, Tony read the police report. Re-read it; fact-checked it, scoured the whole database, the whole nine yards. The gun used to murder his brother was an old Stark Industries model from 2006. </p><p>He wanted to throw up.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Three weeks after Ben's funeral, Peter came to the Tower for the first time.</p><p>Tony cleared his schedule. Whatever the kid needed; he would provide. His guilt ordered as much. </p><p>(And maybe– maybe this time round he wouldn't be so averse to a little familial bonding.)</p><p>As it happened, Peter didn't stay for long. Just enough for him to request that Tony no longer play the role of the Parkers' silent benefactor. </p><p>“I don't want your charity, Mr. Stark,” Peter said: resolute, a quiet confidence Tony had never learnt imbuing his tone. “I don't want to be a dirty secret.”</p><p>“Kid, that's not what–”</p><p>“No, I–” Peter stuttered. Tony waited for him to gather his stride – his time was the least he could offer the kid. “I know. But. The point still stands.” He flashed a weak smile, so small and frail. “We're not your family, sir, and you don't have to worry about us telling anyone.” Quietly, under his breath, so faint Tony had to strain to hear it: “It's not like anyone would believe me anyway.”</p><p>Mouth hoarse, all Tony could do was nod, and watch as the kid walked out of his life. </p><p>Palpitations knocked the rhythm of his heart out of sync. It took a while to get it back under control.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>There was a new superhero on the block – <em>Spider-Man.</em> The spider-child's emergence triggered a protective streak Tony long since assumed was dormant inside him. Spidey's ethos was born from the same cloth Tony stitched Iron Man from, if a little shinier. </p><p>In an effort to distract himself from the loss of a family he grew to care for, Tony would monitor the Spiderling's progress from the Tower balcony, and listen to F.R.I.D.A.Y. recite the budding young superhero's latest triumphs. </p><p>Tony was good at this – hovering on the side lines, too afraid to encroach on no man's land. There was no danger for personal involvement, no screwing up to be had. Spider-Man could swing around New York with Iron Man's silent support.</p><p>But, like the vast majority of his plans, this one blew up in his face too. </p><p>With an urgent signal from F.R.I.D.A.Y. informing him of ol' Spidey's distress, Tony was up and in his suit of armour before you could say, “Underoos!” He had F.R.I. hack surveillance footage in order to find where exactly the little arachnid superhero had crash-landed to, and quickly flew to the approximate location. </p><p>There the red-and-blue kid lay, a mess of disproportionate limbs, looking for all the world like an upside-down spider left to rot. Manoeuvring the child into his arms, he activated his repulsor beams and flew off to the Tower's med bay. </p><p>Spidey awoke mid-flight, and Tony was greeted with a sharp elbow to the face. </p><p>“Hey, kid! Calm down.”</p><p>“Where am I?”</p><p>“Right now, you're about ten thousand feet above Manhattan.” Teasing, he added, “I can let go if you want.”</p><p>Spidey's arms came to wrap more securely around him, super-gluing himself to the Iron Man suit. “No, thanks.”</p><p>Pleased at the acquiescence, the journey to the Tower was quick and quiet. </p><p>The whole debacle must have rankled, for he, after a brief hesitation, he agreed to Tony's invitation to remove his makeshift mask and check his head.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>De-masking Spider-Man was– well, it <em>was</em>.</p><p>And what it was: Peter Parker. As in, Tony's dead half-brother's orphaned nephew. </p><p>(That's just way too many dead people. The kid had his empathy, whether he wanted to or not.)</p><p>“Peter–”</p><p>“Don't tell Aunt May.”</p><p>Tugging on his earlobe, he deliberated on his actions, and chastised his past self for leaving this kid feeling like he had no one in his corner. If Tony had been there when Ben died, maybe–</p><p><em>Maybe</em>.</p><p>On the plus side, the only thing wrong with him was a mild concussion, and even that was rapidly healing, so. All's well that ends well, right?</p><p>Gently, Tony did his best to mend the broken bridges with cast-iron, and rectify the situation. “Kid, you don't have to do this alone. You hear me? I can help you. I want to help you, and I promise you: I won't ever leave.”</p><p>Peter said one thing – just one thing: “You're not my dad.”</p><p>Tony's chest ached, and he stifled the urge to palm at his heart. Anxiety solidified in his gut – he was going about it all in the wrong way. Ben would be ashamed. The one thing he asked of him... and Tony couldn't even do that.</p><p>Born failure – that's all he was. He existed just to let every member of his family down.</p><p>“I'm aware I'm not your father, Peter,” Tony admitted quietly instead in as neutral a tone as he could muster. </p><p>“That's what I told him,” Peter confessed, choked and strained. "The night he died. The last thing he ever heard me say was– <em>that</em>.”</p><p>And Tony <em>knew</em>, because he had been there before. The resemblance was eerily uncanny. Except Howard Stark was a bastard who deserved everything that happened to him, and Ben and Maria were heartbreakingly innocent causalities of Fate's war.</p><p>That's what made the pain linger; fester in the wounds. </p><p>Peter was crying, holding his hands to his face, shoulders quaking, trying to reign in his grief, not wanting to appear weak. </p><p>Tony, emotionally repressed, offered an awkward pat on the back – and then promptly ordered F.R.I.D.A.Y. to play the voicemails Ben left for Tony when he was in Afghanistan. Tony saved every one, replaying them on lonely days.</p><p>“He talked a lot about you,” Tony murmured softly, as Ben Parker's voice filled the lab. “You were the most important thing to him. Nothing you said or didn't say, did or didn't do, would change that. Ever.”</p><p>Tears glistened in Ben's nephew's eyes. The valves of Tony's heart ached at the visceral image. </p><p>Tony and Peter were united in their shared mourning at losing their last blood relative – they were grief-related as well as guilt-related.</p><p>Tony thought: Howard Stark was a guy who wanted children in theory, not in practice. Just an heir to harbour his legacy, nurture in a way he could never.</p><p>As such, Tony was terrible at family matters, bonding and connecting and whatever. Hey, he wasn't proud. It was just a fact.</p><p>But. He craved it. Still.</p><p>Because <em>Mr. Tony Stark</em> had zero conception of self-censorship, his mind ended up blurting: “How would you feel about a little superhero mentoring? I can show you the ropes, give you guidance. I’ll even let you tinker in the lab with me – I am dying to see those web-shooters in action.” He paused for inhalation. “What do you say?”</p><p>The kid blinked. Slow – a tortoise of an action. Time literally stood still at his command; it was highly annoying. Either that, or Tony's anxiety-riddled, a-mile-a-minute brain processed every millisecond the kid lay silent, computing. </p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Tony smiled: unprompted, wide, ecstatic. “Okay.”</p><p>Tentatively, Peter returned it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! :) Please let me know what you guys thought about this.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>